


Talks On New Year's Eve

by ElladoraRedbeard



Series: Coming over [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Accidentally sleeping together, Eventual Sherlock Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:13:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27123667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElladoraRedbeard/pseuds/ElladoraRedbeard
Summary: Sherlock goes over to Lestrade's on New Year's Eve.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: Coming over [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/450175
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	Talks On New Year's Eve

They stood side by side as they watched the ambulance with the American in it drive away.

"And exactly how many times did he fall out of the window?" Sherlock had to suppress a smirk at Lestrade's question.

"It's all a bit of a blur, Detective Inspector. I lost count." Sherlock turned to look at the policeman who just tilted his head in confusion and then walked away. He wasn't quite able to read Lestrade as easily as he normally did, but he reckoned the man was either very amused or slightly turned on, which is weird, because Sherlock had initially pegged him to be disapproving about him throwing a man out of a window several times.

Lestrade walked away shaking his head slightly, and Sherlock wondered what was going on in the other's head.

So he just stood there until the DI left in his police car, not wanting to go up and face John and his questions yet. Besides, he rather liked watching Lestrade go, the man did have a fine arse.

* * *

A few hours later Sherlock was getting tired of John's asinine questions about the woman. For Pete's sake, he wasn't in love with her, and he had known she wasn't dead, he figured that out the moment he saw the body in the morgue. It had resembled Adler quite well, but there were tiny differences, and he wouldn't be as good a detective as he thought himself to be, if he hadn't been able to identify those differences.

So he escaped to visit Lestrade. The man would either be asleep on his sofa, or he'd still be at NSY finishing up paperwork.

He was at home, asleep on his sofa with the telly playing repeats of the New Year countdown. It was a new sofa, a big corner one.

Sherlock stood in the doorway, silently watching the other man for a few minutes. Lestrade had changed into an old NSY sweater and threadbare sweatpants. The sweater was probably from the beginning years of Lestrade's career at the NSY. The man had broadened since then, making the sweater stretch out deliciously at his shoulders. Sherlock had to swallow at the sight, dear Lord the man was sexy.

Shaking the thought off he sat down next to the other man, waking him.

The older man sat up when he noticed Sherlock sitting next to him, rubbing his eyes a bit.

"Happy New Year." He said, and Sherlock had to swallow again as the gruffness of the other man's voice sent his blood rushing south. He shifted, trying to ease his tightening pants, hoping that the other man was tired enough that he wouldn't notice.

"Happy New Year." Sherlock hesitated a moment, he liked their quiet evenings together. But he liked the coarse sound of Lestrade's voice more.

"So, you didn't go to Dorset then?" Sherlock cursed himself at the asinine conversation starter, but apparently the other man was quite keen on conversation too as he answered Sherlock's question.

"No, I called the wife Christmas Morning, and apparently she didn't want to try saving our marriage, but she still hadn't told her family that we were separated, and she wanted to paint me off as a workaholic and negligent man, so they wouldn't blame her for cheating. Didn't much fancy that, so I called the Yard, and made another DI happy by taking over their shifts."

Sherlock smiled at Lestrade though on the inside he was seething at Lestrade's wife, how could she do that to him? The policeman was a workaholic, she was right about that, but he wasn't negligent and he really didn't deserve to be cheated on.

"You're a good man, Lestrade." The compliment caused a rather fetching blush to form on Lestrade's face and Sherlock wondered how he could get the colour to deepen. Unfortunately the other man threw off the blanket that he was under and got up.

"Don't know about that, just didn't want to be made a fool off. A pint, Sherlock?" Sherlock frowned, the man's self esteem was too low, he'd have to change that, as he unfortunately did have a hand in getting it so low. His arousal disappeared at that sobering thought, though he wouldn't stop insulting the man at crime scenes, lest anyone would figure him out.

He accepted the beer from Lestrade, and it was clinked against when Lestrade sat down.

"Cheers for telling me about the cheating by the way, it would have been an awful week in Dorset if you hadn't told me."

Sherlock shrugged and drank from his beer as he didn't really know what to say.

"Well, I couldn't have let her play you for a fool. You don't deserve that." He eventually told the other man who looked rather shocked by his words. Sherlock stared at the telly, uncomfortable at the shocked look, though he knew he didn't have anyone to blame but himself.

"Thank, Sherlock. I really appreciate that!"

"Hmm, still shouldn't have done that on Christmas Eve." John had chewed him out for that, and for what he had said to Molly.

"Probably not, but I'd rather you told me than me having gone to Dorset and be humiliated."

Again, Sherlock didn't quite know what to say, though he was glad that the DI wasn't mad at him. Lestrade's voice had lost it gruffness, but Sherlock still hoped this wasn't the end of their conversation tonight, and it seemed that the other man wasn't done talking either as he broke the silence a few minutes later.

"You really shouldn't have said what you did to Molly though. I can handle myself, and even though I was planning on trying to fix my marriage, I knew deep down it wouldn't work. But Molly didn't deserve what you said."

Sherlock winced. "I know. I apologized again when we were in the cab together to go to the morgue." Sherlock had surprised himself then, he wouldn't have apologized once, let alone twice, even a year before, no matter how rude he'd been.

"Still don't know how you didn't know that present was for you, Sherlock. Everyone in the room knew." This time it was Sherlock who flushed and he ducked his head to try and hide it.

"Yeah well, I never have been good with emotions. I genuinely thought the present couldn't be for me, with how rude I'm always to her." Sherlock had been rather surprised, he had known of Molly's crush, even exploited it a few times, but he had figured she'd get over him soon enough.

"Sherlock, she has had a crush on you for years, of course the present was for you." Lestrade looked at him, suddenly looking quite serious. "I don't want to overstep here, but I do think you should let her down soon, and gently at that, if you're really not interested in her."

Sherlock smiled at that, how Lestrade didn't realize what a good man he was, he would never know. "I'm not, and I already did, in the cab." He hesitated for a millisecond. "I told her I'm gay and that though she's a beautiful and smart woman, I'd never be able to see her in that way. She took it quite well."

When Lestrade smiled at him, Sherlock softly released the breath he had been holding in. He knew that the fear of Lestrade reacting badly to the news that he was gay was ludicrous, but still it lingered, as it did in every non-heterosexual person.

"Gay huh, I always suspected that, though I was never sure. So John then?"

"Why do people always think I have a thing for John?" Sherlock exclaimed frustrated. "The man is nothing more than my best friend, and that's all he'll ever be." Sherlock's heart had been lost long before John had stumbled into his life.

Lestrade laughed, and it sounded relieved, though Sherlock supposed he was imagining that.

"Alright, no John then. I'm glad, the man is hopelessly straight, and I don't want you hurting." Sherlock's heart skipped a beat at that and he snorted at his own sentimentality, though he figured Lestrade would think that he snorted at what he had said about John.

"He really is hopelessly straight, isn't he? You should have seen him after he met Anthea the first time. Couldn't shut up about her." It had been rather annoying.

Lestrade laughed again. "She is a beautiful woman, so I get where he's coming from, but I'd rather prefer someone who'd actually listen if I said something."

Sherlock snickered at his own sappy thoughts about how he always listens when Lestrade says anything, even _he_ knew that wasn't true.

"She never does listen, does she? I still don't get why she's Mycroft's assistant. Maybe he has a crush on her too." This time Lestrade snorted, and before either of them knew, they had both started giggling helplessly at the image of Mycroft crushing on his own assistant.

As the giggling trailed of they fell into a comfortable silence and this time Sherlock didn't quite mind. He shifted around a bit to grab the blanket that Lestrade had previously been lying under, and covered himself with it, resisting the urge to smell it to see if it smelled like Lestrade. He sat cross-legged so he could lean his right leg against Lestrade's, not needing, but still wanting the grounding touch.

He saw Lestrade smiling softly as he lay his head against the headrest and Sherlock had to resist the urge to cuddle up to the man, so he shifted his attention to the woman presenting the countdown on the telly. When Lestrade fell asleep he couldn't resist any more, so he turned the telly off, liberated Lestrade's dangling beer bottle and putting it and his own on the coffee table. He got up to turn of all the lights in the house and then lay down so his head was in Lestrade's lap. He'd have to make sure he was awake before Lestrade was though, so the man wouldn't be any wiser. A few moments later he was lost to oblivion.

* * *

The next morning however, Sherlock woke to fingers softly shifting though his hair. It took a few moments before he realised that he was still lying with his head in the DI's lap. Before he could panic and give himself away, Lestrade untangled his fingers from his hair, and shifted Sherlock from his lap to get up.

Sherlock intended to get up as soon as Lestrade closed the bathroom door behind him, so he could make his escape and avoid any awkwardness, but he must have dozed off again, because the next moment he smelled coffee.

He decided to just pretend that he hadn't noticed he'd slept in the other man's lap. He turned around and lazily opened one eye to see Lestrade leaning against the doorway sipping from a mug. "Coffee?"

As Lestrade picked up another mug, he sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"Thanks." As soon as the mug was in his hands he took a large gulp from it. "Dear Lord, that's good coffee."

Lestrade laughed at that and the man turned away to start breakfast in the kitchen, where he was moments later joined by Sherlock, as they fell into the easy routine they had perfected long ago.


End file.
